Chapter 1: The Weight of Fodder
The air inside the "Labyrinth of Pale Bone" didn't smell like oxygen; it smelled like copper, wet stone, and the impending sense of a shallow grave. It was a thick, cloying atmosphere that seemed to coat the back of the throat with every labored breath.
Kaelen Thorne wiped a mixture of sweat, salt, and cave-grime from his forehead, his fingers trembling with a rhythmic tremor he couldn't suppress. He gripped the hilt of a rusted, government-issued iron dagger—the "Standard Issue Mark IV." It was a pathetic weapon, notched along the edge and poorly balanced, barely more than a glorified letter opener compared to the gleaming, enchanted claymores held by the men standing ten paces ahead of him.
His boots, worn thin at the soles, crunched softly on the uneven floor. Every step felt like he was dragging lead weights. To his left and right, the walls of the labyrinth pulsed with a faint, sickly bioluminescence, revealing the jagged, rib-cage-like arches of the cavern. It felt less like a cave and more like the gullet of a prehistoric titan.
"Keep up, Dead-Weight," a voice boomed, cutting through the heavy silence like a whip crack.
That was Captain Vance. A Gold-Rank Aegis whose Soul Core burned with such intensity that the air around him shimmered with a constant heat haze. He stood six-foot-four, encased in ornate "Lion-Heart" plate armor that cost more than Kaelen would earn in three lifetimes. Vance didn't even look back. To him, Kaelen wasn't a comrade or even a junior soldier; he was a piece of expendable equipment. An F-Rank scout whose only purpose was to trigger traps and provide a five-second warning before something lethal emerged from the shadows.
"I'm... I'm keeping pace, Captain," Kaelen managed to wheeze.
"Then talk less and observe more," Vance snapped. "Your Aether-Index is a 12. You're lucky the Association even lets you breathe the same air as us. The only reason you're here is because the law requires a 'scout-class' for mapping. Don't make me regret choosing the cheapest one on the roster."
Kaelen didn't respond. He couldn't afford to. His lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass, a side effect of "Mana Poisoning" that low-rankers suffered when entering high-density zones. His Aether-Index of 12 was a cruel joke. For context, a common house cat measured a 4, and a healthy civilian athlete usually sat at an 8. Vance, at the Gold Rank, was a monster sitting comfortably at 4,500. The gap wasn't just wide; it was an ocean.
Behind Vance walked the rest of the "Silver Wing" squad. There was Elara, a Silver-Rank Mage with hair the color of frost, her fingers dancing with sparks of blue mana. Beside her was Boros, a Bronze-Rank Vanguard carrying a tower shield that looked heavy enough to crush a car. They walked with a swagger, a casual arrogance born from the knowledge that they were the predators in this ecosystem.
Kaelen pulled a small, cracked brass device from his belt—an Aether-Sensor. It was an old model, second-hand and prone to glitches, but right now, the needle wasn't just moving; it was vibrating so hard it looked like a blur.
"Captain," Kaelen whispered, his voice cracking as he stepped over a pile of bleached marrow. "The readings... something is wrong. The Aether-Index in this chamber isn't consistent with a C-Rank dungeon. The ambient mana is spiking by 300% every ten meters. We need to fall back to the entrance and call for a re-evaluation."
The squad stopped. Elara turned her head, a sneer curling her lips. "Listen to the F-Ranker. He's scared of the shadows again. Kaelen, your sensor is as broken as your Soul Core. My mana sensing is calibrated for a three-mile radius, and I sense nothing but low-level imps."
"But the patterns—" Kaelen started, pointing at the way the bioluminescent moss was turning a bruised purple. "The moss only reacts this way to Abyssal energy, not standard mana."
"I said *walk*," Vance growled. He didn't turn around, but he released a "Pulse"—a standard intimidation technique used by high-rankers.
The invisible wave of pressure slammed into Kaelen's chest. It felt like a physical hammer blow. His vision swam, his knees buckled, and he felt the metallic taste of blood rising in his throat. This was the 'Weight of the Sovereign,' the natural suppression the strong held over the weak. In the Aegis Organization, this wasn't considered assault; it was considered "discipline."
Kaelen swallowed the blood, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He stuffed the vibrating sensor into his pocket, his knuckles white as he squeezed his rusted dagger. He hated them. He hated the way they looked at him—like he was a smudge on a clean window. But more than that, he hated his own helplessness.
They crossed the threshold into the central sanctum.
The transition was instantaneous. The temperature plummeted forty degrees. The ground beneath their boots changed from solid stone to something soft, porous, and slightly warm. It felt like walking on a giant, waterlogged tongue. The glow-stones on the walls didn't just flicker; they were extinguished as if an invisible hand had snuffed them out.
"Elara, light it up," Vance ordered, his voice finally losing its edge of boredom.
"I... I can't," Elara's voice came out as a thin whimper. "My mana... it's being drained. Something is sucking the Aether right out of my veins! Captain, I can't cast!"
A sound tore through the silence then. It wasn't a roar. Roars were for animals. This was a rhythmic, wet, bass-heavy *thump*.
*Thump-thump.* *Thump-thump.*
The entire cavern was vibrating in time with the sound. It wasn't a heartbeat; it was the sound of reality being stepped on.
"Thirty feet up!" Kaelen screamed, his scout instincts finally overriding his fear.
He didn't need a sensor anymore. He could feel it. High above them, nestled in the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, a pair of eyes opened. They were the size of dinner plates, burning with a violent, ultraviolet fire.
The creature shifted, and the "Night-Class" label they had been given for this dungeon felt like a pathetic understatement. This was an **Eclipse-Class** entity—a Lord-General of the Underworld. It had been slumbering, using the dungeon as a cocoon, and their presence had just interrupted its metamorphosis.
"A Great Demon," Vance whispered, his Gold-Rank bravado evaporating. His armor, once so shiny, now looked like a toy. "It's... it's a Lord-General. We have to move! Defensive formation!"
But there was no formation to be had. The Demon didn't give them the chance.
It descended like a falling star made of obsidian and jagged bone. The impact hit Boros, the Bronze-Rank Vanguard, first. He raised his legendary tower shield, a relic that had survived a hundred battles. It didn't matter. The Demon's claw passed through the shield and the man behind it as if they were made of wet paper. Boros was turned into a spray of crimson mist and jagged metal shards before he could even blink.
"Retreat!" Vance shrieked, his voice hitting a high, feminine pitch. "Abandon the objective! To the gate!"
Elara and the others didn't need to be told twice. They turned and sprinted, their boots splashing through the blood of their fallen comrade. But Kaelen was the furthest in. He was the scout. He was the one who had been pushed to the front.
He tried to run, but his F-Rank body was pinned to the spot by the Demon's sheer killing intent. It was like trying to swim through set concrete.
"Captain! Help!" Kaelen reached out a hand as Vance ran past him.
Vance slowed for a fraction of a second. His eyes met Kaelen's. In that moment, Kaelen saw something worse than the Demon: he saw a cold, calculated decision. Vance didn't see a teammate. He saw a 'Distraction.'
"Thanks for the service, kid," Vance hissed.
With the strength of a Gold-Rank, Vance grabbed Kaelen by the collar of his cheap tactical vest and swung him with the force of a trebuchet. He hurled Kaelen's 160-pound frame directly into the path of the lunging Demon.
Kaelen soared through the air, the world turning into a slow-motion blur. He saw the Demon's maw open—a vertical slit lined with thousands of needle-teeth. He saw Vance and Elara reach the heavy iron doors of the sanctum, slamming them shut and engaging the magical seal from the outside.
*Clang.*
The sound of the door locking echoed louder than the Demon's hiss. They had sealed him in. They had used him as meat to buy themselves the five seconds they needed to reach the extraction point.
Then, the Demon's claw intercepted him.
It was a horizontal swipe. Kaelen felt the wind leave his lungs. Then he felt the ribs on his left side explode. Then he felt his spine snap like a dry twig. He was slammed into the cavern wall with such velocity that the stone cratered around him, pinning him there for a heartbeat before he slid down, a broken doll.
He landed in a heap. His left arm was a shredded ruin of muscle and bone, hanging by a few threads of skin. His chest was caved in, making every attempt at a breath a gargling sound of blood and air.
He lay in the dark, listening to the Demon feast on what was left of Boros a few yards away. The creature wasn't in a rush. It knew Kaelen wasn't going anywhere.
*So this is it,* Kaelen thought, his vision beginning to tunnel into a dark pinprick. *The 'Heroes' go home to a parade. They'll tell the Association I died bravely. They'll probably even put my name on a wall. And then they'll go to dinner.*
A cold, white-hot rage flared in the center of his failing heart. It was a spite so deep it felt more powerful than any Aether-Index.
*I won't... I won't let it end like this. Not for them. I'll kill them. I'll kill every last one of them.*
His heart gave a final, agonizing spasm.
[0 BPM]
The darkness of the cave merged with the darkness of his mind. Total silence. Total void.
But then, a sound. Not a biological sound. It was the crisp, digital chime of a notification. A cold, blue light ignited in the center of his dead vision.
**[WARNING: Vital signs have reached 0.00%.]**
**[Soul Core: Shattered beyond repair.]**
**[Scanning for 'Will to Persist'...]**
**[Result: ERROR. Spite Levels exceeding measurable limits.]**
**[The 'Absolute Evolution' System has identified a Master.]**
**[Condition Met: Die while harboring an 'Impossible Grudge'.]**
**[Re-Writing the Laws of Life and Death...]**
**[Initializing 'Player Interface'...]**
*THUMP.*
Kaelen's chest suddenly heaved. A surge of blue electricity arched across his broken ribs.
**[Heartbeat Restarted.]**
**[Level: 0]**
**[Rank: F (Evaluated)]**
**[Stat Points: 0]**
**[XP: 0/100]**
**[Daily Quest Triggered: "The First Step of the Damned"]**
**[Objective: Survive for 10 minutes against the 'Abyssal Lord' while in a 'Near-Death' state.]**
**[Reward: +10 Strength, Skill: 'Blood-Lust Aura'.]**
**[Failure: Permanent Deletion.]**
Kaelen's eyes snapped open. They were no longer brown; a thin, glowing ring of gold now circled his pupils. He looked at his shredded arm. It wasn't fully healed, but the bleeding had stopped, replaced by a strange, humming blue vapor that acted like a magical bandage.
He looked up. The Demon had finished its first course. It turned its massive, burning eyes toward the "corpse" against the wall. It sensed something different. The 'meat' was standing up.
Kaelen spat a mouthful of thick, black blood onto the floor. He gripped his rusted dagger with his one good hand.
"My turn," he whispered, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together.